Dreamcatcher
by Raven173
Summary: You never know what you have until it's gone....deals with some sensitive issues


I had wanted to do it for some time to be honest. It never really occurred to me that it might be wrong. It was a truth I did not question, that I needed to, that I had to.

She didn't put up much of a fight. I was quite surprised. She always seemed so strong, so able on the surface. So independent. All she said to me, before we began was "I don't love you". I told her that it didn't matter, because I didn't love her either. I didn't want to, and besides, I couldn't. It was only need, want, lust. Looking back, it was surreal. Her, touching me, when I had wanted it for so long. For many nights, I lay dreaming about it as the darkness breathed out the stars, the moon wrapped up in a cloak of clouds, was almost a crime. I knew every curve of her body, every inch of her soul as if it was my own, but this...that was alien, like the touch of steel against flushed skin. Mechanical, as we ripped each others clothes off, unnatural as our hands roamed free, fulfilling the needs we had kept bottled up for so long.

 I don't know even now, is if she wanted me too, but it didn't matter, it was just then. The naked want. The red hot searing desire, like poison, the drug of lust. The kisses were intoxicating, so good it was almost deadly. Dangerous. We both knew, if one of us slipped, it would send the other crashing down too. It added to the excitement, the knowledge of what we were doing wasn't supposed to be, was never supposed to be. I kept expecting myself to wake up, sweating, and spent, but this was real. Too real. The game had almost ended, my prey caught, and the predator fed. 

We were clumsy. I know now we were agonizingly cumbersome, but it didn't matter, it was just about fulfilling wishes. I wished for her body, and she wished for my acceptance of her. I understood her, like nobody else could. I could understand the feeling of walking on a knife-edge, careful not to break yourself. The feeling that you weren't quite in the borders. To us, there was no light, no dark, only vague shades of grey, where there were no rules, and nothing really mattered. 

"Careful you don't slip" I said

"Don't worry." She said. "I won't" 

  I explored her, my fingers running up and down her body, knowing it like I knew the back of my hand. She moaned with pleasure, as did I, the excitement almost unbearable. I held her tightly, holding her, caressing her, guiding her. The first thrust was so slow, it was as if time had come to an end. Later, I found bruises on my shoulders where she had grasped at me in pain, but pleasure too. We were like animals, quick, ferocious and deadly.

Afterwards, we untangled ourselves from each other, picking up discarded clothes, and shrugging them on. We stared at each other with defiance, daring the other to speak first. Wanting to admit the regret, that what we had done, felt wrong, even though it felt in some ways right. I spoke first

"Well then..."

She stared at me more, like a hawk, brown eyes glinting in the dim light.

"Yes?"

"Are you sorry" I asked, bending down to pick up my robes. "Are you already regretting what we did?"

"Should I?" she asked, calmly. "Or is it you that's regretful?"

 There was silence, except for the sound of my thudding heartbeat. I was regretful.  I was satisfied, yes, glad, possibly. But I was also horrified. I felt disgusting, as if I had ruined something so precious, and just walked away. It was as if that was the price for her. Emotion. I didn't want to feel for her, I didn't want to feel, but that was her price. Vulnerability, the knowledge that I didn't want her for just sex, but for something more, for love. It was a sacrifice I didn't want to have to make. I didn't love her, did I? I didn't know what I thought then, all I knew was that I desired to run away, to get out of there before I choked on the raw emotion, the feelings of helplessness that I wasn't in control anymore, that I wasn't able to cope. 

"I'm not regretful" I answered. "Already, what's happened is past tense. It doesn't matter". 

She grabbed my arm, and stared at me, gently.

"Doesn't it?"

"I don't know. It depends on me I guess."

I walked away. It was safer. 

I heard her though. "Please. Don't fall in love with me"

I made no promises. 

She came to me a few weeks later, looking tired and scared, and as confused as I felt mentally. Everything seemed to be crashing down at my feet. I didn't know how to deal with the unexplainable guilt that I felt, every waking hour, that I had somehow debased her, that I wasn't worthy to have lain eyes on her, not worthy enough to touch her, and hold her close. Not worthy to fall in love with her. I had had other girls, but they didn't matter. With them, it was just a quick lay. Nothing special.

    I knew what was coming next. I already knew. She came down and sat besides me at the lake, knees dangling over the edge of the embankment. It was dusk again, the sunset dying over the nearby mountains, adding a downcast glow to everything, a somehow sinister appearance to nature. The air was loaded with tension, like an elastic band, ready to snap. 

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" I asked her, tilting my head sideways. Her red hair looked grey in the light, as if she was an old woman, looking back on her life. But there were no wrinkles, no ache in old broken bones, but enough memories, enough experiences to be ancient. She nodded, sending waves of red hair down her back and I sighed. Of course we hadn't used protection. It wasn't an issue, all that was, was the simple want. The future seemed like a distant dot on the horizon, that would never be reached. Although now that dot didn't seem too far away, and now it was alive. 

I don't remember the conversation after that. I didn't need to. We said what was needed to be said, and did what was needed to be done. She told her parents, she got an abortion. I stayed out of the way, trying to come to turns with events. Pretending I knew nothing. Denying any knowledge. It was simple, like black on white. Except...except it didn't work quite so simply

They told me, later that sometimes magical abortions can go wrong. They can send the woman over the edge, more guilty and fucked up than ever that they destroyed something so precious. They can't quite cope with the negative magic sent through their body. Looks like that was what had happened. She never told me. She was the brave one. 

They found her in a bathroom, spread out limply, like a broken puppet, white as a doll. Blood everywhere. It surrounded her like a river, an evil river. How could somebody so small bleed so much?  There was no note, but just a bleak desperation in her doomed eyes, that we were too late to save her.   __

We were foolish. Now she was dead.  __

I stood at her grave, and the words keep repeating themselves in my head, the ones she told me...before I killed her. "I don't love you." I thought that I didn't love her either, but I was wrong. I did love her. I loved her more than I thought I knew. I understood then, why the sex was unnatural, there was no love. In all my dreams, it wasn't just lust. It was alive. It was love. It meant something, worth jeopardizing our lives over, worth risking our futures for, just to save.  I wonder if she ever loved me too. If her entire existence was a lie, just like mine. 

I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't need to look back to see who it was. He squatted down beside me. Silence, as the leaves from the nearby trees blew past, gently, away to their fates. 

"You really loved her, didn't you".

I nodded, pleading with myself not to cry, not in front of him. He looked down at her grave, at the fancy curvature on the grave, which spelled the uncaring words that reminded me she was gone.

"She was like a sister to me. I still can't quite believe that it's true".

I looked at him. His green eyes were cloudy, and somewhere down inside his soul, I could hear his thoughts. "That's another one gone. Another one I could not save. How many more must I fail?"

 "You didn't fail her." I said, hardly recognizing the dry dusty voice as my own. "It was me that failed her."

He looked at me, and I saw the flash of pity in his eyes. Before her, I might have stood up proudly, shook my head and said, "I don't need your pity. I don't need anything from you" but right then, I needed somebody more than anything else.

"Draco…"

He put his arms around me, and I shook. I didn't care then. The sorrow hit me fully, the knowledge that she would never smile at me again, or wink knowingly passing me in the halls. She would never sneak out of her dorm room to visit me at night, and we would never trade insults with each other, ever again. It was final. I didn't want finality. I wanted her alive. And I wanted her to love me. 

I got the comfort then from the person in the world I expected it least.

Its been five years now. I haven't even touched anyone else again. He visits me sometimes, as I sit alone in the dark, rocking in my chair, always wondering. He's the only one who does. He understands what its like, to have someone you love taken away from you, without a chance to tell them that you do. Some people think that it's a fitting tribute for me, for being such a bastard, for killing all those innocent people on Death Eater raids with my father, and Voldemort. I think I agree. I often wonder, if I had of told her, if she would have loved me back. If she would have still been alive. If she would have had my baby. If we would have gotten married.  

I don't anymore. There's nothing left. 


End file.
